


Disenchantment

by Shaymed



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22669405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaymed/pseuds/Shaymed
Summary: An alternate avenue for the Enchantment series. I decided after the fact that I don't want the story to go that way.





	Disenchantment

Docra was just finishing up enchanting a set of robes when the knock on her door came. She set the item aside and stood. On the other side was the human she’d met in a tavern the week before. She blinked at his twitchy demeanor and slightly inebriated state. 

“Hello again. Can I he--”

He shoved inside and shut the door, then locked it.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. 

“You asked me to help you,” he said, a wicked gleam in his eye. 

“I no longer require your serv--” 

The back of his hand struck across her cheek. “We had a deal.”

She stared at him, holding her cheek. “Get out of my house.”

He gripped her by the biceps and pushed her toward the couch. Docra shook free and grabbed her teapot. She smashed it against the side of his head, splashing hot tea over both of them. He screamed as she slipped away to run to her bedroom. He caught her on the threshold where the curtain hung and slammed her head against the wall. The priestess cried out and fell to the floor. 

“You fucking  _ cunt _ ,” he growled. 

The man grabbed her by the hair and dragged her into the room as she slapped at his hand. 

“Let me go,” she demanded.

“You don’t sound like you really want me to,” he said of her lack of tone. He let go of her hair and she rolled over to get up, but his boot on her back pressed her chest into the rug. “You shouldn’t go back on your promises, whore.”

“If you stop now, I’ll--”

“You’ll nothing. I’m getting what I came here for. Oh, I nearly forgot.” He took a rag from his pocket and tied a knot in the middle, then shoved that into her mouth and tied the ends behind her head. “Can’t stand that voice of yours,” he growled. 

The man took a dagger from his boot and began cutting down the back of her dress. Docra’s hands scrabbled behind her head to find the knot. He gripped her fingers, twisting until she was sure one might break. He laughed as she screamed in pain. After a quick visual search he stood and grabbed a sheer black scarf from a hook on the wall. He grabbed her hands to the small of her back and wrapped the item expertly around her wrists, then tied it tight. 

The human finished cutting down the skirt, then went for the sleeves. He flipped her over and stared at her ample bust filling the cups of her brasier. 

“Oh, gods, lookit those. Your body is wasted on you.” 

He cut the straps and then the bit in the middle and the article burst open, telling of the slight strain it had been under. He lowered over her and took one into his mouth, sucking hard and biting down as his other hand roughly handled the other one. 

The priestess cried out and brought her knee up into his side, then kicked at him. Enraged, he responded by punching her in the mouth, then the cheek. Every time she kicked him, he punched her face. Then he straddled her and pressed his palms into her throat. She gasped and whimpered, her eyes rolling back.

“Stop kicking me and I’ll let you breathe,” he said. 

She lowered her legs and sucked in a desperate breath as he released her throat.  _ Please stop _ . She tried to say, but her gag blocked the words from being intelligible. 

“Are you begging?” He laughed. “Good.”

He removed his clothing, save his pants, then cut her underwear away. She was now completely naked under him, save the enchanted scarf around her ankle. She brought her leg up as though trying to irritate him into cutting it off. If she couldn’t stop what was happening, she could at least try to prevent conceiving his child. He ignored her, however, shoving her leg back down.

“Don’t make me choke you again.”

She closed her eyes and looked away.  _ What time is it? Ervaen, hurry! _ But when she opened her eyes to look at the clock, she saw that it was still over an hour until he would close the tavern and come to her hut, as he’d done every night that week just to spend time with her.

When the human had his fill of her breasts, he rolled her over to grab a buttock in each palm. He squeezed uncomfortably tightly. Then he spread them and bent down to lick between them. She cringed, feeling sick to her stomach over the action. He did it again. Then dipped lower to lick from up at her most sensitive part to back between her cheeks. 

Next his fingers dipped inside her, pulling lubrication out to swirl across her lower lips. The man pushed his pants down and tossed them in the pile of his clothing. Then he flipped her back over and pushed her legs wide. His fingers eased in and out to bring more lubrication out for his entry. After a while she opened her eyes. He was completely focused on her flower as though hypnotized by his actions. Then he rose up and in one sudden movement shoved all the way inside her to his hilt. She cried out at the sudden thrust, then turned her head away as he pulled out and thrust back in, finding a rhythm. 

“Aw, yes,” he groaned. “Look at them big tits bounce.” He thrust harder, grinning at the harsh movement of her breasts that matched whatever pace he set. “Gods, what a body.” 

He ran calloused hands up her hips and waist, onto her ribs, and then grabbed her breasts roughly, gripping tight as he rammed his hips into hers to cause them to move harder or faster at his pleasure. After several more thrusts he grunted and groaned, then suddenly withdrew. He circled his hand around his shaft and worked it quickly as he moved up her body. She set her wide eyes on him, then flinched and whimpered as his hot seed shot from the tip, pumping several long strings of his fluids over her face. 

“Fuckin’ hells,” he groaned, still jerking at his shaft, causing it to remain hard. He lifted her under her arms, turned her around, and bent her over the side of the bed. “Now for that job you hired me to do, right?”

He shoved his half-soft member into her and began thrusting, their thighs slapping together and echoing from the walls. 

“A shame you’re not a virgin. Woulda loved to make you bleed.” 

She cringed and wiped her face across the comforter, but it only somewhat helped the problem of his cum sticking to her skin. 

“Bet I can still make you bleed,” he said, a cruel tone in his voice. 

He drove in harder and faster. So fast that her feet continued to slip out from under her. He would jerk her hips back up, never breaking pace. After a long time of his cruel drives into her cavern, he withdrew and growled. 

“It’s not working.” He strode across the room. 

She didn’t look back, but contemplated straightening and fighting back again. Just as she was about to, he grabbed her arms and shoved her back into the bed. Something cold and large pressed to her opening, then shoved inside. It was silky smooth--definitely not his shaft. It forced in deeper and deeper until it hit her back wall. Then he pulled it all the way out before driving it back in just as deep. He continued this way for several minutes. Docra cringed as the stretching hurt and her insides stung.

“There we go,” he groaned. He withdrew the item one last time and threw it beside her on the bed--it was one of her large, indigo candles, now covered in her juices and blood. 

His shaft drove into her. Not as painful as the candle, nor as large, but now that the skin within and without had been torn, her fluids made it sting. He was able to thrust much faster with his hips, as well, rather than with the candle. His drives were relentless, remorseless, angry. Then his member firmed again and in a few thrusts he shot his essence within her. Her skin crawled and she pressed her face into the bed to whimper in disgust. 

Docra didn’t move as he pulled out, used her bathroom to clean himself, and slowly got dressed. His fluids trailed down her legs as her body worked to expel them. When he left, she didn’t hear the door close, but waited, then stood to have gravity aid her. The binding on her wrists held tight, no matter which way she twisted and pulled. The priestess growled in frustration, then fell to her rear. She pushed her big toe into the scarf around her ankle, trying to push it off, but it also held fast. She twisted and contorted, trying to reach the ankle with her fingers, but she simply wasn’t flexible enough. She pouted one final time, then fell onto her side to stare under the bed and wait for someone to find her.

~ * ~

Ervaen finished closing the tavern quickly. He figured he shouldn’t be anxious about going to see Docra, as he’d been doing every day, but he was nervous all the same. At least he was, until he reached the small house and found the door open. Ivory mrowed up at him, his tail swishing in confusion and irritation. Then he turned and padded off into the bedroom. On the floor her teapot was shattered, liquid everywhere, washing away the powder for an enchant she hadn’t completed on the table. 

He strode into her room. A sharp shiver rolled beneath his skin as his eyes beheld the sight. Ivory sat next to the bound and naked priestess, who’d curled into a fetal position as best she could with her arms behind her back. He rushed to her, angry disgust forming as a hard lump in the pit of his stomach when he saw the crusted fluids on her thighs and face. Her eyes remained trained on something under her bed. Ervaen reached out to touch her and she jumped, her eyes snapping sideways to see who it was. Relief flooded her pale eyes as she turned herself toward him. He quickly untied the gag in her mouth and the scarf on her wrists. 

“The enchantment,” she gasped, cringing as it hurt to move her shoulders forward. “Take it off.”

He untied the little cloth from her ankle and tossed it to the side. “Are you okay?” he asked as she curled into his embrace. 

“No,” she whispered. 

He frowned and ran the backs of his fingers over her face. Her eye makeup had smeared and run sideways over the bridge of her nose and onto her temple--she’d been crying. His throat clenched and he lifted and carried her into the bathroom. He set her on the bath mat and leaned around to run warm water into the clawfoot tub. When he returned his attention to her, she was shaking. 

“The gag… Was it that human?”

She looked up at him and he was finally able to see the damage the other man had done to her face. Her upper and lower lips were split, a bruise had formed on her jaw and cheekbone, and a dark line was encircling her throat. She was breathing shallow through her parted lips. 

“Did he come back?” Ervaen asked on a growl as he set his palm to her neck.

Docra just nodded, then leaned her head into his chest. “I broke m-my favorite teapot,” she said.

“Kel can fix it,” he replied, holding her tightly. 

“Don’t tell her about… I don’t need her being dramatic about it.”

He nodded against her scalp. “I won’t. I promise.”

Ervaen lifted her and slowly set her into the tub; she hissed as the water reached her sore nethers. He found her sponge and her soap and started with her face.

“Is it bad?” She hissed as he cleaned the crusted mess around her broken skin.

“Pretty bad, yeah,” he replied, holding back an angry sadness that wanted to burst forth as screaming and breaking things. 

She looked at her knees in the water. “I didn’t know it could hurt like this.”

“Where does it hurt?” he asked.

“Here.” She motioned down between her legs. “Here.” She motioned at her face and crossed her hands to hold her shoulders. “But...mostly here…” One hand made a fist and pressed on her sternum between her breasts--somehow he knew she didn’t mean a physical pain that time. 

He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like tears rolled from her eyes; with her face wet he really didn’t know. Otherwise, her expression remained as usual, though her brow was furrowed. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up and into bed early?”

“I don’t want to go back in there right now.”

Ervaen nodded. “I understand. You can come to my place.”

Her eyes shifted left to right as she thought, then she nodded. “Thank you.”

He gently used a washcloth to wipe away the blood and semen on her face, then held a mirror while she healed the small injuries before it was too late and they’d leave scars. Once he had her out of the tub and was helping her dry off--the priestess fussing the whole time about being capable of it herself--he went to her room and found new clothes for her. When he returned she was standing there, obsessively smoothing the towel on the rack to dry. While most might turn meek or appear as an injured creature, she still just floated in a strange state of outward apathy. He took her cheeks in his palms and looked into her eyes, then set a kiss on her forehead. 

“It’s okay to be upset,” he said. 

Docra blinked at him. “I am.”

He tried to help her dress, but she fussed over that, too, taking an abnormally long amount of time to straighten her underwear just right, adjust her brassiere just so, straighten the seam of her sleeves to be perfectly straight from shoulder to elbow, and the side seams from armpit to hips. Everything was obsessively adjusted until it was perfect. 

Ervaen frowned as he watched. She had cried but she didn’t show the pain on her face. Just a furrowed brow and a compulsion to keep things in perfect order. He added that to the mental list of quirks he was learning that meant something else. Perhaps it was even varying degrees--the more upset she was, the more fussy and obsessive she became. 

He gently took her hands to stop as she found another thing to pull at on her dress. “Would you like to grab a few things?”

She nodded and found her shoes and a few books which she slipped into her bag, followed by a tin of her favorite tea. Secretly he reached into the cupboard after her and found a small sachet of her sleeping herbs. He shouldered her bag and helped clasp her cloak, taking her hand again as she tried to fuss over it. As they walked out the door, she picked up her cat and waited for him to lock up the house and slip the key into her bag. 

Docra followed Ervaen, her hand holding tightly to his as he led her to the tavern and inside. He locked and barred the front door, then double checked the back door was also secured. He unlocked the door across from the restrooms--a staircase was behind it. He turned the deadbolt behind them as the priestess slowly ascended. 

His apartment was spacious, covering the entire top floor over the tavern. Two rooms, bathroom, kitchen and living room. She stared blankly at the light walls and his simple furnishings.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

She blinked around the space again. “It’s bright. And quiet.”

“If I’d known you were coming over I’d have painted.”

She looked up at him as he went to her. “Thank you. Your humor makes me feel better.”

She sat on the couch as he prepared a cup of tea for her. When he handed it to her she held it under her nose and breathed in. The priestess looked at him.

“You think I can’t smell the herbs you added to my tea?” she asked.

He sighed and sat beside her. “Sorry. I just thought it might help…”

She blinked at him, then quickly drank every last drop. “Thank you, Ervaen.” Already her eyelids grew heavy and blinked slowly. “You’ll have to carry…m…” Docra plopped against his chest, breathing softly. 

He brushed her hair out of her face. “You’re welcome.” 

He tucked her into his bed, kissed her forehead, then closed the door. He poured himself a drink and quietly swallowed it in furious gulps. Something was happening just down the street, an all night party, perhaps. He glared over at them as though they were the source of his anger. In among the people lingering in the doorway, drinking and smoking, he spied a familiar shade of red hair.

The elf set down the glass, grabbed his keys, and went outside, locking each door along the way. He went slowly, hands in his pockets as he watched the human talk and laugh like nothing in the world was weighing on his mind. Ervaen waited patiently until the man went around the side of the building to relieve himself, then slipped into the alley with him. 

He balled his fists, tempted to just slip the hidden dagger from his boot and slit the man’s throat. Instead when the redhead turned around he sent a heavy fist into his mouth. “Shoulda stayed away,” he hissed.

Before the human could say anything or retaliate, the elf began punching him over and over. The man fell to the ground and Ervaen climbed over the top of him and continued, his fists coated in blood and pounding against flesh with sickening wet thuds. The human slowly weakened and stopped trying to fight back. Then he went limp altogether. Ervaen continued, muttering angrily.

_ Shouldn’t have touched her. Fucking piece of shit. Ruined something so beautiful.  _

Heavy steps approached and a light bobbed through the alley. The person stopped then rushed forward to pull the high elf away from the man; Ervaen struggled against them.

“Erv, stop,” someone hissed in his ear.

He stopped moving recognizing the voice of his brother. “Yathen…” He looked down at his hands, coated red, as his boiling blood began to cool. 

The guard checked the man, then stood, his eyes wide on his older brother. “He’s dead!”

The elder Nightheart man fought to catch his breath, his hands still just held in the air in front of him as though he didn’t know what to do with them now that he was done. “He…” Ervaen swallowed to wet his dry throat. “He hurt her.”

“Who?”

“Raped her.”

Yathen’s eyes widened more. “ _ Who? _ ”

“My... I didn’t mean to…”

The guard looked to both ends of the alley, picked up his lantern, and grabbed his brother by the elbow. He went around the corner first to bark at the partygoers to get back inside or he’d cite them for public intoxication. Then he grabbed Ervaen again and rushed him to the tavern. He took the keys and opened the locks to prevent blood smearing anywhere. 

“Okay, here’s how it’s going to go,” he said, lowering the bar in front of the door. “You don’t know shit. The end. You were asleep all night.” Yathen followed him up the stairs and into the bathroom. “That’s  _ if _ anyone comes asking.” He shook his head as the elder said nothing, just pulled his shirt over his head and threw it in the bin, then began scrubbing at his hands in the sink. “You must really love her to kill a man for her.”

The soap slipped from the elf’s grasp and he pursed his lips at the other man reflected in the mirror. “Have to love someone to get justice for them?” he asked, his voice heavy over the knot in his throat.

“That wasn’t justice!” Yathen looked around, spying the unfamiliar items, the hastily packed bag, the tea tin. “Is she here?” He strode to the bedroom to find the priestess breathing softly as she slept, her cat curled on her chest. He quietly closed the door and turned to find his brother standing behind him, completely lost for words. “That’s the enchanter in the alley, isn’t it? Kel’s friend, right?”

Ervaen folded his arms and nodded. 

“I’ve never heard anything but good about her work. Why would someone want to do that to her?” he asked, his own anger growing in his chest. 

“She needed help with an enchantment and found him...probably at a tavern. No one else would help. I was delivering her dinner and sent him away before he even stepped inside. Tonight when I got there… He left her tied up and gagged on the floor, long enough for her bruises to turn black. Seeing her like that…”

“The things we do for love,” Yathen said softly. 

“I don’t…” He licked his lips, unable to fully deny that he might actually love her. “She doesn’t want Kel to know about tonight. Or that we’ve become friends.”

“I actually completely understand that.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek and sighed. “I won’t tell anyone. I swear it. And tonight never happened.”

Ervaen nodded. “Thanks, Yathen. I didn’t mean to…”

“Come lock up after me.” He went downstairs and retrieved his lantern. “She’s lucky to have you, brother.”

Ervaen locked back up and went upstairs. He pulled on some linen trousers, putting his others in the bin as well. The elf stared down at the sleeping woman for a long time, then sighed and slid in beside her, pulling her head to his chest. 

“No, I’m the lucky one.”


End file.
